


perfectly scattered cotton ball clouds

by lotts (LottieAnna)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, this wouldn't have happened if tito wasn't sO GODDAMN GOOD AT BASEBALL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 14:43:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14474925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieAnna/pseuds/lotts
Summary: “Not all of us have three five point games to get us onto the roster,” Tito says. “Some of us had to slave away in the AHL—”“For aweek,” Mat says. “You play three games in the minors, and suddenly you’ve got a chip on your shoulder?”“I had to prove myself,” Tito says.“You were really grinding it out, eh?” Mat says. “It’s amazing how you’re gonna manage twenty goals with those fourth line minutes.”“Shut it, rookie.”





	perfectly scattered cotton ball clouds

**Author's Note:**

> god if you or someone you know is mentioned in the tags just. leave. right now. please.
> 
>  
> 
> [It's all their fault okay THEY DID THIS](https://www.nhl.com/islanders/news/barzy-beau-and-baseball/c-297880224)

The problem is: when you keep a secret on the tip of your tongue for as long as Mat has, there’s a very real possibility that, when you finally make a plan—a really good plan, for what it’s worth—to finally confess, all the work you’ve done to keep every part of that secret under wraps starts to come undone, and slowly, hints begin to leak without your permission, working their way into your hands and your feet and your eyes. Secrets change character once they know they’re going to be revealed. 

In Mat’s case, it happens about a month too early, and there are many, many witnesses to it. 

It starts, like many of the more interesting stories in Mat’s life—good and bad alike—with a call from Hockey Canada. 

It’s an honor to be invited to Worlds, and Mat’s still bitter about the last time he’d worn the Maple Leaf on his jersey, so he’s pretty ecstatic to go, especially when he hears that Jordan’s getting invited too. Like, playing on a line with Jordan Eberle is already a little bit unreal, but playing on a line with Jordan Eberle  _ for Team Canada _ is something his 13-year-old self couldn’t even dare to dream about. 

Worlds are also, in Mat’s head, different from U20’s, just because a U20’s is pretty much the highest honor Hockey Canada can bestow on a teenager, while Worlds is more like a consolation prize if you’re really good but your team didn’t make the playoffs, but still. Mat’s hoping to get to go to the Olympics someday, but he can’t count on that, apparently, so this is pretty much the only chance he has to play hockey on the international stage.

And again, Jordan’s probably going, plus, Connor McDavid’s gonna be there, so at the very least, it’ll be cool to play with them, and also fun to go to Europe and stuff. 

So it’s almost perfect, except for one thing. 

“Hey, uh,” Mat says, “Just out of curiosity, am I allowed to ask who else you’re planning on asking?” 

There’s a pause on the other end, and then Brodeur says, “Did you have anyone in particular in mind?” 

“Uh, Beauvillier,” Mat says. “Anthony.” 

Another pause, and then, “He hasn’t been offered an invitation yet.” 

“But is he, like, in the discussion?” Mat asks. 

“We keep a lot of players in mind, for tournaments like this,” Brodeur says. “I know he’s played for Canada before.” 

“He’s played with me,” Mat says. “We’re on the same line—” 

“I’m aware, Mr. Barzal,” Brodeur says. 

“Sorry,” Mat says. “I’m not trying to push, I’m just saying—” 

“I’m not in the business of starting rumors,” he says, cutting Mat off, “and I don’t want to make any guarantees, but I will say that he’s on our list.”

“So he’s gonna get a call?” 

“If a few other invitations are declined, yes,” Brodeur says. 

“And how likely is that?” Mat asks. “Just— ballpark.” 

“I can’t say for certain—” 

“Guess?” Mat says. 

A beat, and then, “It’s more likely than not.” 

Mat feels his face light up into some super dumb grin, and he’s very happy he’s alone right now. “Alright, cool.” 

“I trust that you’ll keep this information to yourself,” Brodeur says. 

“For sure,” Mat says, and then, remembering that he’s on the phone with a literal NHL GM, “I mean, of course. Thank you so much, sir.” 

“Of course,” Brodeur says. “We’re excited to have you, Mathew.”

“I’m excited to be there,” Mat says. 

“Take care,” Brodeur says, and then, he hangs up. 

And that’s when the gears in Mat’s head start turning. 

He doesn’t want to be too obvious about it, but as he hears more and more guys around the league declining invitations, he tries to not let Tito get, like, actively discouraged. 

“Are you gonna go if they ask?” Mat says. 

“We’ll see if they do,” Tito says. 

“Dude, come on,” Mat says. “If you wanna go, you’ll go.” 

“If they invite me,” Tito says. 

“They’ll probably invite you,” Mat says. “If they know how to get a good team together.” 

Tito rolls his eyes, but Mat can tell that he’s smiling, and blushing a little too. “We’ll see.” 

“But you wanna go,” Mat says. 

“We’ll s—” 

“Anthony,” Mat says. 

Tito shrugs. “I’m not gonna count on a call.” 

“You’re too negative,” Mat says plainly. 

“Not all of us have three five point games to get us onto the roster,” Tito says. “Some of us had to slave away in the AHL—” 

“For a  _ week,” _ Mat says. “You play three games in the minors, and suddenly you’ve got a chip on your shoulder?” 

“I had to prove myself,” Tito says. 

“You were really grinding it out, eh?” Mat says. “It’s amazing how you’re gonna manage twenty goals with those fourth line minutes.” 

“Shut it, rookie,” Tito says. 

“I’m  _ older  _ than you.” 

“Yet you’re the one who’s gonna win the Calder.” 

“Shut up,” Mat says, rolling his eyes. “That shit doesn’t matter. Are you coming to Worlds, or no?” 

“I told you, we’ll see,” Tito says, almost smug, because he’s probably at least partially just trying to piss Mat off, at this point.

So, needless to say, Mat is pretty smug himself when Tito gets the call a few weeks later. 

“And what did you tell them?” Mat says. 

“You’ll see,” Tito says, and when Mat punches him in the arm, he laughs. “Of course I said yes, idiot.” 

Mat grins. “Now, was that so hard?” 

“Yes,” Tito says. “Extremely.”

It’s total bullshit, because Mat can see the excitement practically pouring out of his smile, but he doesn’t call him out on it. 

The plan is to wait until Denmark. It’s Europe, it’s summer, it’s a chance to play fun hockey and try to win a medal together. It’s worked out as well as Mat could have possibly hoped— if Tito says no, Mat has the summer to mull it over, and hockey to focus on in the meantime, and Ebs’ shoulder to cry on, metaphorically. On the flip side, if he says yes, Mat has a built-in European vacation for them to kick things off. 

Really, it’s a perfect plan, and Mat’s honestly excited about it. 

Like,  _ really  _ excited. 

Too excited, maybe. 

The issue is: Mat had anticipated having the end of the season to keep him sad and busy and not thinking about the possibility of Tito, which had been true, but after those are done, Mat’s still got to stay in New York for a bit, so obviously, he ends up spending some time with Tito.  

And by some time, he means, like. A lot of time. 

Which would be all well and good, if Mat didn’t have all sorts of wild hopes and dreams and feelings centered around him, but he manages to keep a handle on the situation. Granted, it’s a fairly weak, thin handle, but it’s something. 

 

Until the fucking NHL Network happens. 

 

For the record, Mat hates losing. He’s pretty sure that’s a well-documented fact at this point, and even if it weren’t, people could probably guess, based on the fact that he’s a professional athlete, or just based on the general impression he gives off.

Look. Mat doesn’t like being bad at things, and he likes being good at them. When he’s good at things—like hockey, or making Tito smile—he does them a lot. When he’s bad at things—high school, cooking—he avoids them as much as possible. 

Mat especially doesn’t like being bad at sports, which isn’t usually a problem for him, except they have him play baseball, on TV, with Pedro Martinez, and it’s been a minute since Mat held a bat, and Tito’s wearing really great pants, so he doesn’t really perform to the best of his abilities. 

At one point, Tito asks if he wants the bigger bat—literally that, word for word—and Mat’s pretty sure the only reason he gets a homer on his next hit is because he wants to erase that memory from his brain. 

And then Tito’s up, and of course he’s all cute at the plate, doing things with his hips, and then it turns out that he’s really great at baseball, and that’s, y’know, fine. 

The whole thing puts Mat’s head in a really weird place, and by the time they have to give an interview, he’s a sweaty-palmed, jittery mess.

And that’s when things really start to come apart, honestly. 

Like, Mat can feel the things his face is doing any time Tito talks, especially when Tito talks about him. He can’t help it; Tito makes him feel a lot of things all the time, but the most prominent and most constant thing is happiness, and Mat can tell that it shows. 

It’s embarrassing, really. Like, he’s really here, on TV, looking at Tito like he’s hung the moon, and he can’t do anything to stop it. There are some points when he doesn’t even want to, like when Tito looks over at him and they share a smile. Those moments make up for the rest of it, maybe; like, sure, Mat’s just spent a day humiliating himself in front of cameras, but if Tito’s looking at him like that, it’s probably worth it. 

But the whole interview leaves him feeling weirdly exposed and jittery, and that gets kicked into overdrive at the end, when they ask about Worlds. 

“I’m sorry,” Mat blurts out, once they’re out of the studio back in the dressing room. 

Tito looks up from his phone, frowning. “What? Why?” 

“For being all— weird, I don’t know,” Mat says. 

“You’re not being weird,” Tito says. 

“Oh,” Mat says. 

“I mean,” Tito says, “Are you… feeling weird?”

“No,” Mat says quickly. “I mean— sort of? Just— off, I don’t know.” 

“The end of the season does that,” Tito says. 

“Not that kind of off,” Mat says. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Okay,” Tito says slowly.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Mat says, because it’s really not. “Just— a thing. That’s happening in the future.” 

“Like, soon?” 

Mat shrugs. “Not super soon?” 

“Then why are you so nervous about it today?” 

Mat gulps. “I mean,” he starts, but then he looks at Tito, and it’s like, yeah, sure, he has a plan, but he also kind of has an opportunity, right now. 

Like. He’s spent months pining over his best friend, and for the first time, he feels brave enough, right now, to actually  _ do  _ something. 

“Can you do me a favor?”  

“Uh, sure?” Tito says, sounding surprised. 

“Close your eyes,” Mat says. 

Tito looks confused, but he does it anyway. “Why?” 

“Just— I wanna try something,” Mat says, making his way across the room to Tito. “Is that okay?” 

“You’re not gonna, like, punch me, right?” 

“No,” Mat says, and then he puts a hand on Tito’s shoulder, a little hesitant. “Keep them closed.” 

“I am,” Tito says, and Mat doesn’t think he’s imagining the way it sounds a little breathless.

“Okay,” he says, and then he runs his thumb along Tito’s lips. 

“Mat—” 

“Is this okay?” Mat says. 

Tito doesn’t give him an answer. “What are you doing?” 

“This,” Mat says, and then he leans in. 

It’s not so much a kiss as Mat pressing his mouth against Tito’s, at first. Tito doesn’t move away, but he also doesn’t really do anything, like he’s frozen in place, until Mat moves his mouth a little, and then, almost hesitantly, Tito kisses back. 

And then it’s like— Tito is  _ kissing back. _

It’s totally surreal, honestly, but Mat just goes with it, and as the realization that this is happening starts to set in, the kiss deepens, because, like, holy fuck. 

“Alright, dude,” Tito says, laughing a little bit. “We’re in a dressing room.” 

“Hm?” Mat says, totally dazed and very displeased that they’re not currently kissing, but also pretty happy, because they  _ kissed.  _

It might take him a minute to process, like, the rest of the world beyond that. It’s kind of a big deal, and maybe, like, all of his dreams coming true. 

“Anyone could walk in,” Tito says. 

“But I wanna,” Mat says, and then he shakes his head in a weak attempt at regaining some composure. “Or— I mean, do you wanna, like, go to a different place?” 

“It’s the middle of the afternoon,” Tito says, but he’s still smiling, and he’s maybe making fun of Mat, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

“You have an apartment,” Mat says. “I have a car. We could make something work.” 

“A car? What are we, 16?” 

“Just an idea,” Mat says. “I mean— if you wanna keep making out.” 

“Sure, but how about we wait till later,” Tito says. 

“Well, what are we gonna do in the meantime?” Mat asks. 

“How about, like, dinner,” Tito says. “Your treat, obviously.”

“Why do I have to pay?” 

“What, you don’t want to buy me dinner?” 

Mat blushes a bit, but he doesn’t waver. “Well, I did, until you went and ruined it.” 

“Did I really?” Tito says, and he gives Mat a look, this pouty, wide-eyed thing that Mat would call bullshit on if it were any other day, but as it stands, it just really fucking works. 

“Okay, fine, I’ll buy you dinner,” Mat says. “I swear, I have to do everything around here.” 

“Excuse you, I’m the one who asked you on a date,” Tito says, light and playful as anything, but the word “date” makes Mat’s heart skip a beat. 

Like, it’s just a word, but still. 

He’s going on a date. With  _ Tito.  _

“I was gonna,” Mat says. “Eventually.” 

Tito’s face softens, and Mat’s pretty sure it’s at least a little bit in surprise. “When was ‘eventually’ gonna be?” 

“Denmark?” Mat says, suddenly embarrassed by it. 

“You were gonna wait a whole month?” 

“Well—I don’t know. It seemed like a good opportunity.”  

“Sounds to me like you were procrastinating,” Tito says. 

“Was not,” Mat protests. “I just thought I was gonna need the time to psych myself up.”  

“You seem pretty psyched-up now,” Tito says. 

“I budgeted in extra time for that part,” Mat says. “I dunno, I wanted to do this right.” 

“Aw,” Tito says. “You’re so into me.” 

“Duh,” Mat says, because that was never a question. 

Tito laughs, this surprised, delighted thing that makes Mat’s knees weak, which is pretty par for the course. “Well, then, I guess it’s a good thing I’m into you too.” 

Mat knows that whatever he says next is gonna be something stupid, so he saves himself the embarrassment by just kissing Tito again instead. 

**Author's Note:**

> aight a read this and i love her for it but i still accept sole responsibility for any typos. i read this over just now but it's 4am and i'm drunk so~
> 
> (...for that reason we'll see if i ever take this off anon) (i think i will?)


End file.
